


Too Late

by closetsherlockian



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, In which Mary really did come between Sherlock and John, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Post-Series Three, this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetsherlockian/pseuds/closetsherlockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where John's marriage wasn't rocked by lies/attempted murder/CAM. The distance Mary inadvertently caused meant John wasn't there for Sherlock like he used to be. John Watson had no idea he was running out of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Late

John lied.  
  
Sherlock should've known better. Of course it was the end of an era. Mycroft had been right. About it all. And now, with his dying breath, Sherlock only had his brother for comfort.  
  
"You knew your past would come back to haunt you, Sherlock. Why weren't you more careful?" the elder Holmes said with a pained voice. Sherlock had been lying on his deathbed for almost a week and Mycroft was the only one by his side. Never in his life did Mycroft Holmes despise someone as much as Doctor John Hamish Watson. After all these years and everything Sherlock had done for him John was nowhere to be found.  
  
"John..where's John?" Sherlock said hoarsely. He was barely able to speak any more. The illness had taken it's toll.  
  
Mycroft stroked his brother's cheek. He felt his heart breaking in his chest all over again. "I've got everyone out looking for him. He'll be here soon, I promise."  
  
"Mike?"  
  
It was too much. Mycroft felt a tear roll down his cheek.  
  
"Yes, Will?"  
  
Sherlock was shaking and his lips were blue. It wouldn't be long now. "I'm sorry."  
  
He had always been so careful during his days as an addict. But all it took was one dirty needle and he was infected. Sherlock didn't pay any attention to the signs until it was too late. HIV has already taken his body and will soon take his life. Sherlock's body and mind disintegrated rapidly after the diagnosis just before the wedding. Mycroft had moved into 221b to take care of him. For once Sherlock didn't object. Now that John had a wife and baby on the way he didn't have the time any more.  
  
"Oh, Sherlock. I know. But neither of us could see this coming" Mycroft replied.  
  
He and Sherlock hadn't called each other those names since they were boys. Sherlock would only call Mycroft by his nickname when he was terrified. Normally he'd scold Mycroft for calling him his legal name but deep down Sherlock found it soothing.  
  
"Mycroft...where's John?"

* * *

 Married life wasn't treating John kindly. He missed the life he had with Sherlock so very much. Mary has come a nightmare since she well pregnant. As a doctor John had seen it all the time and knew it was just the hormones but it didn't make it any less difficult.  
  
"For God's sake John I told you to take the rubbish out! I'm almost nine months pregnant, my ankles have disappeared and I'm still cleaning up after your sorry arse!"  
  
John winced. Every little thing seemed to set her off. Compared to her dealing with Sherlock, even at his worst, was a walk in the park.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mary. I'll do it now. Have you seen my phone?"  
  
Mrs Watson threw her hands in the air dramatically. "Oh of course you want your phone! Going off to the pub to bitch about your dreadful wife with your mates? Or are you going to run around London with Sherlock again chasing bloody murderers?"  
  
Sherlock Holmes was always a taboo topic in the Watson household. John hadn't spent nearly as much time with him as he wanted. He's only seen him six or seven times since he got back from his honeymoon. He had been meaning to ask Sherlock if everything was alright - last time he saw him the detective was looking a little worse for wear.  
  
Mary's incoherent ranting was cut off by a knock on the door.  
  
"I'll get it!" John called out. Might be an escape from this current hellhole. It wasn't supposed to be like this.  
  
Much to his suprise Philip Anderson was standing before him.  
  
"What are you-" John started.  
  
"Shut up, John. There's no time. Mycroft's been trying to get a hold of you all bloody week and he's getting me to do his legwork! Why the hell haven't you been answering you phone?"  
  
The doctor was stunned. "I haven't been able to find it. Wait, do you mean Mycroft Holmes? What does he want with me?"  
  
Anderson sighed. "There's not time to talk, John. Just get in the damn car! You need to go to Baker Street now!"  
  
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong!"  
  
"Sherlock's dying, John. There isn't much time now."  
  
Mary heard her husband slam the door without another word. She slipped her hand into her dressing gown and pulled out John's mobile only to throw it against the wall. All she wanted was for him to stay with her. She was sick of competing against Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

Ever since Sherlock Holmes met John Watson he knew there was something special about him. hey way he walked. The way talked. The way the doctor was capable of understanding him on a level that no-one ever had before. It wasn't until he returned from unweaving Moriarty's network did he realise just how much he loved John. But he was too late. His best friend, the man who he loved more than anything else on this Earth, had already moved on with Mary. During his speech at John's wedding all he could think about is how much he wanted to be the one who had the privledge of listening to John Hamish Watson vow to be his husband until the day he died.  
  
Sadly he had no idea that day would come so soon. And John was nowhere to found. It wasn't supposed to end like this. He was supposed to be by John's side until they were both old men. Even if John could never love him the same way Sherlock would do anything to be by his side in any capacity. He would learn to love Mary and his children and accept that they could never be. He would learn to love him, and continue to love him, from afar.  
  
What he didn't count on was Mary Morstan driving them a part.  
  
At first it was only little things. Like Mary calling John home went they met up for dinner. Or telling John it was too dangerous for him to continue working with Sherlock now that she was pregnant. What finally broke them was the day they moved out of London and Mary refused to tell Sherlock where they went.  
  
Perhaps it was paranoia. Jealousy. Hatred. Whatever it was she had taken John and it was never the same. All Sherlock wanted was to love him the best way he can. He didn't dare put up a fight because all he wanted was for John to be happy. Even if that meant he couldn't be in his life anymore.  
  
Thinking about what he used to have with John made his heart clench and whole body ache. He reached out to hold Mycroft's hand but all he wanted was John's.  
  
"He'll come, Mike. He will. I need to see him one last time."  
  
Sherlock's raspy voice cut out as he broke into violent sobs.

* * *

Of course the fucking taxi had to hit every damn red light on the way to London.  
  
How did this happen? How did John let it get to this?  
  
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Becoming a married man wasn't supposed to change him this much. But it did. He stopped making time for Sherlock. Stopped going on cases. Didn't see him nearly as much as he should've, or wanted to. He hadn't even been back to Baker Street!  
  
John knew getting married was a mistake. He loved Sherlock too much. No-one could ever, ever compare to Sherlock Holmes. Mary was an amazing woman. Beautiful, sweet, kind, generous...but she wasn't Sherlock. She didn't make his heart race with adrenaline or light his skin on fire with every touch. He even thought of Sherlock when he made love to her. But Sherlock "I'm-married-to-my-work" Holmes could never love him back. The Work would always come first. When Sherlock was "dead" John realised he had let Sherlock become his life, not just a part of it. He needed something else. Anything else to fill the gap in his life that Sherlock would never be capable of filling.  
  
John resigned himself to the fact that he would be nothing more than a friend to Sherlock and that was it. They would grow old together, but not in the way John wanted. He dreamed of retiring to the country with the detective and living out the rest of their lives together in peace. Instead he would become bitter, jaded and resentful towards the woman who was a sub-par replacement for Sherlock at best.  
  
It wasn't fair on Mary, himself or their child. But life wasn't fair. And now there was no going back.  
  
"For God's sake isn't there any other way to get there?" John barked at the cabbie. Thankfully Anderson sat in silence and left John alone with his thoughts.  
  
"For the tenth bloody time mate there's no other way! It's 5 o'clock on a Friday afternoon. What'd you expect?" the disgruntled driver responded. "We'll be there in five minutes."

" _If only I had five minutes to give_ " John thought to himself. He fought back the tears that were stinging behind his eyes.

* * *

"Are you comfortable, Will?" Mycroft asked softly. "Do you need anything? Water? Medicine?"  
  
Sherlock smiled back. "There's nothing more you can do for me, brother. You've always been so kind. All you've ever done was take care of me and I've given you nothing but grief in return."  
  
Sherlock began to violently cough and, once again, it was Mycroft who wiped the blood from his mouth.  
  
"I would do anything for you, William. You know that. I've sent someone to get John. He'll be here soon."  
  
Mycroft checked his mobile. Phillip still hadn't messaged him. Damn that insufferable idiot. There was a reason he was Mycroft's last resort. His superiors told him if he hijacked another Secret Service team for "personal projects" he would lose his position. Of all the times for those poncy bastarda to pull him into line...  
  
The older brother desperately tried to ignore his brother's tears. Knowing his last moments of life would be full of pain was too much to bear.  
  
"Did you...did you ever find out who was behind that video?" Sherlock's small voice said next to him. Mycroft grimaced. This was a topic he never wanted to discuss.  
  
"Like I said, I would do anything for you. Don't worry about that now" Mycroft replied.  
  
Sherlock looked at him and there was a sudden glint of realisation in his eyes. "It was you, wasn't it? You knew that I was going to be exiled. You made that video. You didn't want me to go. Mycroft?"  
  
His brother simply smoothed a rouge curl from his forehead and said nothing.

“Mycroft…where’s John?”

* * *

By the time the cab pulled up outside 221b it was long since dark. John didn’t even wait for the car to stop before jumping to the kerb. Anderson said a silent prayer and instructed the cabbie to go to his apartment. John could only pray to a deity he wasn’t sure that he believe in that he wasn’t too late. He ran up the seventeen faithful steps to his old apartment and his heart stopped. He was so afraid of what he would find. At least out here, in his mind, Sherlock was still alive. John finally mustered up the courage and walked into the flat and towards Sherlock’s bedroom.  
  
Strangely the first thought that came to mind when he entered the room was the fact that he’d never really seen this part of 221b. Although Sherlock’s presence could be felt all through the flat in the form of experiments and body parts this room was too…empty. Devoid of life. Dark and musty. When John’s eyes met Mycroft’s he knew he was too late.  
  
Sherlock was already gone.  
  
He didn’t even look like Sherlock any more. Not the Sherlock John remembered. His body was far too frail and his bones protruded through his skin. His once glossy curls were lank and dry. Sherlock’s body even looked smaller. Too small. He was wearing John's oldest jumper and it swallowed him. But it was his face that would haunt John for the rest of his days. They say death is supposed to be peaceful but all John saw was pain.  
  
“Doctor Watson. I imagine this is quite a shock for you. I only wish you could’ve joined us sooner. Sherlock left this for you. I will give you five minutes before the coroner comes to take him to The Princess Grace Hospital. I don’t believe it would be…appropriate for him to go to Bart’s.”  
  
Mycroft passed John a folded piece of paper and gave him a stern look. “He asked for you, Doctor Watson. With his dying breath he begged me to find you. It would have been such a comfort for him. You were all he ever wanted, John. No-one else.”  
  
John could only stand in shock as Mycroft left the room. His eyes returned to Sherlock’s lifeless corpse and he walked towards the bed. The moment he felt Sherlock’s cold hand John fell to his knees and sobbed.  
  
“Sherlock…oh Sherlock…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Sherlock. I should’ve been here. I’m so bloody sorry. Please forgive me. Forgive me. I’m so sorry. I love you, Sherlock. I love you so much. I made such a mistake. I made a mistake.”  
  
John’s breathing returned to normal and he felt as though he had shed every last tear in his body. He held the letter in his hand and started to read.  
  
 _My dearest John,_  
  
 _Please forgive me for my absence. I shouldn't of let things slip. I knew I was sick for many months now and couldn't bear to tell you. Despite my best intentions I contracted HIV from a used needle many years ago. By the time I found out it was too late and there was nothing to do. I always knew I wouldn’t live a long life but by having you in it it was the best life I could have ever hoped for._  
  
 _I wish you and Mary every happiness in the world. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. John, I have loved you for many years now. Perhaps more than I should have. I am leaving you everything I have in the vain hope that you will benefit from my accrued wealth in the decades to come._  
  
 _I wish I could have grown old with you._  
  
 _I am always yours, in both this life and the next._  
  
 _Sherlock_

* * *

It seemed like no matter how much time had passed the pain of losing Sherlock never went away. Knowing that this really was the end. There's no trick or plan to bring him back from the dead. Sherlock Holmes was gone and John Watson was lost. He hadn't spoken with Mycroft since Sherlock died, even at his funeral. John had to listen to Sherlock's mother dote on him and lavish him with adoration for "being the man that saved Sherlock" and "the best thing that could have ever happened" to him. Mycroft had suprisingly held his tongue for once in his life. Most likely to keep his mother's disillusioned bubble in tact. As far as she knew Sherlock had died from an infected bullet wound, not HIV. As far as she knew John had tended to him and taken care of Sherlock. She had no idea it couldn't be further from the truth.

"Daddy!"

John was dragged from his stupor by the high pitched voice behind him. The first day of school was finally here.

The doctor bent down and opened up his arms. "There you are! I've missed you so much. Have you missed me?" The force of the hug was almost enough to knock the wind out of his chest.

His joy soon dissipated when Mary walked out with a tiny schoolbag. Sadly their divorce had been a bitter one but they were able to have joint custody. Five years later and it still wasn't any easier. Mary went into labour shortly after Sherlock's which wasn't the only surprise that day.

"Don't forget this sweetie! Now give your mummy a big kiss and be good for your daddy. I'll see you next week and you can tell me all about your time at school" Mary lovingly told the young child.

She gave John a curt nod and waved them goodbye. John lived for these moments. Small pockets of bliss in a life of dull ache. The walk towards the local primary school as thankfully a short one from Mary's house. Unfortunately it was an expensive taxi ride from 221b but John had no qualms paying the fare. 

"Come on, sweetheart. I'll take you to your classroom and we can meet your new friends, but first we have to go to the office, alright?" John said with a smile.

"Okay, daddy. I'm really excited!"

John walked into the school's small reception building and gave the receptionist a smile.

"Good morning. I'm here to register my child for grade one."

The receptionst smiled back. "Very good. What was the name?"

"Watson. William Scott Watson."


End file.
